Tuesday, March 30, 2010

On This Morning He Said to All of Us

Now, after many years of practice, on this morning he said to all of us, "It is so nice to be involved with other people!"

Beautiful statement. The walls have fallen, the lies undone, the struggle finished. No poise -- Ego and Willpower on the wane, rooted out.

What remains? You and the rest of us...some practice the path, others do not. No matter what, we all are involved with one another.

As long as we practice together, we will not be alone. We only fail if we stop trying.


Poem - i'm sure as he works he knows/ they can hear him

the sun is out
i hear a man drilling
into a wall of the refurbished
house next door

he says

nobody answers
so he drills some more
and the shadows move a fraction
down the side of the house

he says
"hey guys?"

indistinct response
the drill is switched on
i'm sure as he works he knows
they can hear him

Monday, March 29, 2010

Poem - The Devil

"Ya know, my Daddy used to say every man's got a Devil. And you can't rest 'til you find him... but if it's any consolation to you, you have put a smile on my face."

Top Dollar
The Crow

is it true even
reflected in a movie that
we all
have an ultimate foe
personified in this life

people forget
his name was translated
'the adversary'
when thought germinated
of such a thing not new

the book of job
tries to explain why bad
happen to seemingly
virtuous people but i know
i am not virtuous

many believe the
devil has a hand in everything
the bedroom to
the store to the church
even in their faith

(i don't know/but

i avoided a thing
for such a long time and
a life around this denial
until i knew i would
never be free

it had to be located
then looked straight in the
without shirking or
making any kind
of flimsy excuse

i know the devil is me
thinking the devil is
a foe
urgently to be eluded
bargained tricked lied
or destroyed

i'm looking at him now
and he's looking
nothing much to say
because there's no fight
fear or admonishment)

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Poem - barely shackled/ to this waking life

for P. Irelan

they had to get at your heart
so they cracked you open like a hammer
to the portland vase don't worry it can be
glued back together with hardly
a scratch

what are the alternatives anyways
you could die like generations did before
unmolested but the good news is
it wasn't raining the day they operated
and you don't remember much
before of after

they helped you walk
the treadmill keeps the coffin at bay
now after months you're going
report about those strange places
you traveled to in delirious whimsy
barely shackled
to this waking life

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Almost Spring - Hilarious Tears

"We might get published." I say to Chung Tzu. Lao Tzu is in the background, sitting quite still.

"Oh my!" says Chung Tzu. "People like to read about things they've already realized, even if they don't think they have accomplishment -- or any special qualities."

I spy a faint smile on Lao Tzu's face.

Chung Tzu and I walk to the store.

It is almost spring.


When we go into the supermarket, Chung Tzu grabs me, and he says, "OK, young fella. See here! You're onto something, but remember -- you can play with an old stick only so much! If you bend it too far, it will go 'CRACK'. Don't crack the stick!"

"Are you saying TAO is the OLD STICK?" I ask.

We're standing in the produce aisle, and Chung Tzu laughs so loudly, holding onto his gut -- the whole store stares at us like we're maniacs or bank robbers.

He recovers and wipes the tears of hilarity out of his eyes.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Poem - Almost spring

for Peter Marti

Almost spring
On a bright day
Not cold at all
People are tapping
Fixing raking building
Playing loud
Mexican music

I see a cut stump
Oozing sap like
Blood it shines
In the sun
I wonder if the tree
Is not dead &
Will magically
Grow back

Maybe it can I think
As I walk to the store

Maybe it can


Lombard Street
Oak Park

Greg, Me, and Andy Warhol

I dream Greg and I are at Andy Warhol's studio in New York, it is about 1972. From the long windows, I can see a tea-colored autumn day. After we check out the scene, Greg turns to me and he says, "Man! Andy Warhol definitely has the "15 Minutes of Fame then I'm Gonna Die Because I'm Already Pretending to be Dead" thing going on." I see Andy standing far away wearing a white wig, dressed in black. With nobody near him.

Friday, March 12, 2010


"Hey, honey. A weird thing happened today at the store. I go in there to get milk and whatnot, and everybody felt like talking. Shoppers, people who worked there -- today we were all in this great mood. We must have chatted about things for about 20 minutes -- nobody was in a hurry in this huge store, people talking in line at the cash registers, in the meat isle, produce, wherever you looked, everyone was talking and having a great time getting to know one another. When I left, everyone said Goodbye! See you later! It was like we were all best freinds. I drove home feeling great, I still feel curiously great. Am I going insane? Am I dreaming? Then, coming in with the groceries, I see all these silver banana shaped things cruising in the sky. Each one has gotta be 200 feet long, polished like chrome. You can hardly stand to look at them, they are so bright & beautiful. Looking at them, all of them up there, was not upsetting in the least. You'd figure I'd panick, but I was glad to see them. And as I was unlocking the door, I think I heard this voice, going through the minds of everything that walks, jumps, or crawls, in this whole world of ours, and it said, to some funky psychadelic synth-mech tone: WE CAME TO FIND YOU: NOW YOU ARE NO LONGER ALONE: YOUR SUFFERING HAS ENDED: REJOICE!"

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Poem - time is short

there is just a hole
no wait not a hole
because a hole is something

saying it is a hole
implies missing or void
so what isn't it

or not nothing
not something


i lost it i found it
i lost it again i found it
night & day

i promise not to be
too mad or too bothered
time is short

lucky we all are


This morning I don't feel like it, but I have to go into the DMV (here in Illinois it is called "Secretary of State" to confuse you) and renew my car registration. Naturally, it is raining. As I've written before, whenever I have to do something important and potentially unpleasant, it is always raining. I miss the exit, double back, find the place. The parking lot is half full, a good sign -- I was expecting to have to stand in the rain outside for about 20 minutes before you even get inside. As I park, I see a few shitty drivers troll the lanes between parking spaces, numb, lost -- only seen at the DMV -- go figure. One car next to me has the alarm going on and off every few seconds.

It rains harder. I get out, open my umbrella, get my papers -- I see there is no line to get in. Inside, there's no line to the people who ask you what you want and tell you where to go. Amazing. There's no delay to pay the casheer. Amazing.

I'm outside in under 4 minutes, total. Reopening my umbrella, hearing the car alarm still wailing in the distance, I look up at the sky & I say "Wow! Thanks Universe! I can't believe how easy this was."

As I drove home, I heard a roll of thunder & the rain kept falling into rainbow slick puddles.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Poem - of this

getting to know anyone
is to terrorize yourself

but i'll get to know you
if you won't hurt me

i have not given up
i was just going to sleep

i missed you and thought
of this

it does not bring you
any closer


The phone rings. Caller-ID says the call is from Omaha, Nebraska. I know no-one who lives in Omaha, Nebraska. Therefore, I grab the phone, and I say, "You know, whenever I get a phone call from OMAHA, NEBRASKA -- I pick that call up IMMEDIATELY!"

The caller hangs up.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

Poem - look kid here it is sorry to say

your designation is not unique
with the toilsome mindless extent of time
who you is so used worn out
look kid sorry to say
you are like a beautiful goldfish in a
isolated fish bowl only one person can see
but dang you are sooooo beautiful
cannot be replaced

me too


Right Before it Started Raining
Oak Park

Friday, March 05, 2010

Poem - winter is going to be OVER

winter is going to be OVER
no more falling SNOW
no more glittering SNOWFLAKES
it will be raining TOMORROW
no more SNOW



Tuesday, March 02, 2010

one time i saw marc in metitation

one time i saw marc in metitation
from the expression on his face

i was convinced without doubt
that ego is as real substantial

as a theater stage or a puff
of smoke

Poem - so i am/ cautious/ in both/ lives

diamond sleep
takes me

a million

leading me

into universe
after universe

all stuffed
into 6 hours

or even

if we are

to our ultimate

what is
the difference

diamond sleep

and waking

so i am

in both

Monday, March 01, 2010

Poem - living on modified aphorisms

living on modified aphorisms

"every dog has his day"

but when THIS DOG has his day

it will be a grand parade


Robbing Banks

Imagine you were taught to rob Banks. You were rigorously trained to take any kind of Bank, anywhere in the world, night or day. And for several years, you were sent to far away places, doing just that. You were good at what you did, and you never wanted to harm or kill others, but some Bank heists didn't go off as planned, and people got hurt. Sometimes it was unavoidable, but you did what you were ordered to do, and you were praised and promoted. You found that you were very good at robbing Banks, and it was fun. The people that sent you told you how important it was for you to rob Banks. Then one day, Bank robbing was declared completed, they sent you home. You find yourself surrounded by family, freinds and community -- but what you do best is forbidden. At home, robbing Banks is illegal, but also is seen as unethical & even immoral. On the outside, this seems to make sense, but on the inside, there is a problem. When you drive by a Bank, sometimes your knuckles get white as you grip the steering wheel, because you think, "I could take that Bank. I could take it all by myself and they'd never see me coming or going." Your freinds, family, and community don't understand what they did to you, what you were asked to do, and how you did it. It dawns on you that you hate everyone a little bit, and even yourself secretly, because of this. 20 years old, you should have your whole life ahead of you. But all you can think about is robbing Banks. Because nothing else for the rest of your life will be so memorable and intense. You feel bad. Even scared.